Seeing Red
by Riley.Quinn5
Summary: Wyatt surrenders himself to Rittenhouse to save Lucy. He is beginning to give up hope. Will they find him in time?
1. Chapter 1

Wyatt's POV:

This was never supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a simple mission, in and out. Head to 1888, hope to survive Jack the Ripper, and stop Emma from destroying London. But of course, there's always a hitch. That hitch is what landed me in Rittenhouse captivity.

They came for Lucy. Emma, Carol, and Nicholas. But there was no way that was happening. I would die before I let that happen. So I did what I did best. I made it up as I went, buying Lucy and Rufus the time to get to the Lifeboat, holding off the Rittenhouse agents as they fired bullet after bullet at us.

When I knew they were safe at the Lifeboat, I laid down my weapon. I surrendered. By the time I heard Lucy yelling my name we had already reached the Mothership.

They had handcuffed my hands tightly behind my back and led me there. It was maybe half a mile away from the Lifeboat, hidden in the trees.

Then we were gone, and I hoped they had gotten away. They had. My first interrogator was not too happy about that. That was what seemed like forever ago.

About a week ago, someone told me it had been 6 months. I didn't know if that was true, because, of course, the second we got here, they had stripped me to my boxers, chained my feet and my hands behind my back with literal shackles, which connected to a chain around my neck, preventing too much movement, blindfolded me, and wrapped duct tape all around my head as a gag. It wasn't exactly ideal. But hey, I'll gladly spend some time here if it saves my team.

I've been tortured almost nonstop. They give me small breaks. Sometimes a couple hours, sometimes a couple days. It feels like a cycle. Stale bread and water once a week, the freezing atmosphere constantly chilling me to the bone, leaving me shivering 24/7. And of course, you know, the torture. They've done everything.

Electrocution, waterboarding, suffocation, drowning. They've stabbed me, twisting and turning the knife, and, only receiving small grunts in return, thanks to my army training, left them frustrated. Which led them to shoot me. Several times. Not at once, obviously, but they would patch me up, sort of. No stitches, just whiskey and gauze. So I wouldn't die of sepsis. I think. Makes the most sense.

They're running out of skin space, though. They've gotten me in the left shoulder, just above the heart, my right thigh, probably narrowly missing my femoral artery. My left abdomen, my left ankle. That one hurt like a bitch. Went right through the bone. But I still didn't say anything. So they brought out the long guns, so to say.

First was the blowtorch. They burned part of my lower back, wrapping around to my torso, leaving behind a nasty burn scar that still hadn't healed properly.

Then, they brought out the wooden stick. Yep, a wooden stick. Bastinado was one of the worst forms of torture in the Middle Ages. They'd whip the bottom of a person's feet hundreds of times, leaving them in immense pain, and of course, unable to walk. Which is why I'm stuck laying on the cold ground. Like hell if I'm crawling anywhere.

Next was a metal pipe. They hung me from hooks on the ceiling and swung at me, my chest, abdomen, legs, arms, even the face a couple times. That left me with a black eye, broken jaw, broken nose, and a broken left eye socket.

I guess they got bored. Cause the metal pipe was the last time they came in here. Which felt like forever ago, but considering I was passed out for who knows how long, it could have been much longer.

Then they walked back in. I let out a defeated sigh. I could barely move. And the damn blindfold was still on me. Had been since the beginning. I was starting to think that if I ever got out of here, I might not be able to see.

They grabbed my arms and hooked them onto some sort of machine. It held me up, and slowly hung my arms above my head, backwards. Shit. Reverse hanging. I started to panic, jerking in my chains.

Some psycho in Syria had tortured an old friend this way in front of me. His screams still haunt me. Jessica got me through it that time. Now I had no one.

I felt the muscles begin to tear. I held back a groan, just barely. Tears were already leaking from my eyes. Then it was too much. I couldn't hear anything else as my screams filled the room. All the muscles in my shoulders tore and then they dislocated as my arms finally were above my head.

They slowly lowered me to the ground, and as I tried to move my arms, I let out a small scream as the bone in my shoulder grinded against my collarbone. And along with that, I was disappointed to find they were still chained behind my back. I heard a small laugh from one of the Rittenhouse agents.

They laid me down on my filthy cot and left me. My hot tears stained the blindfold and stained my cheeks for hours afterwards as the burn in my shoulders continued to leave me writhing and whimpering on my cot. The sound of my sobs echoing in my prison.

Lucy's POV:

It's been 10 months. 10 months since we went on that fateful trip back to 1888. It was all a trap. They came for me. They took Wyatt instead. No, he sacrificed himself to save us. To save me.

I've gone over that day a million times in my head. Trying to figure out the exact moment it all went wrong. Then it just leads me to think about Wyatt. If he's okay, or even alive. What they're doing to him.

We stayed in London for about a week trying to see if they'd come back. Bring him back. But we found nothing. So we came back to the present. I don't talk much anymore. I stay in my room all day. I gave up on the whole traveling through time thing about 6 months ago. Flynn took lead, filling in for Wyatt and Jiya filled in for me.

Flynn has tried talking to me. Getting me to open up. But the only thing I can think about is getting Wyatt back. He's all I think about anymore.

Rufus told me to move on. He finally snapped and yelled at me that Wyatt was dead and I was just throwing my life away. Jiya pulled me away and held me as I finally let my emotions get the better of me, let me sob onto her shoulder for hours. Then I pulled away and offered her a small smile before retreating into bed and laying there, reliving me and Wyatt's best moments.

His smile, his laugh, the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed. His eyes. How blue and deep they were. How I always got lost in them, from the first time I met him.

I never realized how much I really cared about him until I lost him. Until he was ripped out of my life. And the realization hit me. I fell in love with Wyatt Logan. Maybe it was slow, and unplanned. Maybe it snuck up on me. But I loved him. And now I felt more alone than I ever had. I'm in love with Wyatt Logan and the person holding him captive was the woman who raised me. I thought I knew her. But now I was going to go to the ends of the Earth to make sure that she paid. Her and all of Rittenhouse.

Until Wyatt is back, and safe, in my arms, I will not stop until I've burned their entire organization to the ground./span/p


	2. Chapter 2

Jiya's POV:

I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to help Lucy, or Wyatt for that matter. He's stuck god knows where, and she can barely bring herself to get out of bed anymore. I do what I can. Bring her food and water and try to cheer her up. But I know what it's like to be terrified that you might never see the love of your life again.

When Rufus got shot, I almost couldn't bear it. The thought of losing him forever. And now Wyatt…

Agent Christopher and Flynn have been trying everything. Looking at traffic cams, monitoring credit cards, anything that might lead them to Wyatt. Nothing has come up.

Wyatt's POV:

My shoulders were still on fire after my little 'example' yesterday. Supposedly one of the founders' ancestors visited and wasn't happy with results. He was also the one who ordered and executed my session yesterday. Afterwards, he told me that he had shown it to the other prisoners. That got my attention. He made me an example, and told me that things would only get worse from here on out. Then he left. That was a while ago. And I'm still stuck with this goddamn blindfold.

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of footsteps heading to my room were heard again and I immediately tensed. I didn't know if I could bear another 'example' being made of me.

They started with electrocution. Hooked up the wires to the car battery, and soon I felt the electricity surge through me. I let out a soft groan, and they turned it off. Then they tilted my head back. That's when I started to struggle.

The water came just as fast and cold as every other time. And it kept coming. When they ran out of water, they refilled it. And this time, a cattle prod was pressed into my broken ribs as the water continued to strangle my lungs and prevent me from crying out. My body started shaking even more and they slowly lowered me back to the ground, walking out without a word. Blackness soon enveloped my weakened body.

They weren't gone long. They woke me up by sticking my head in a big bucket of water. That feeling, is one of the worst in the world. To open your eyes and only see darkness, then you try to breathe and all you inhale is water. The panic set in fast, making my body jerk as I kept inhaling water. Just as the black that was threatening the edges of my vision spread, they pulled me out, leaving me to take in desperate breaths of air through my nose, the duct tape blocking most of my oxygen.

I felt somebody grab my arms and once again chain them above my head. The motion was excruciating, let alone hanging from my battered shoulders for hours on end. This time they moved quickly. The knife was embedded in my forearm for a good five seconds before I felt the pain set in. I let out a moan when I felt another knife resting just above my kneecap. I shut my eyes, preparing myself. I didn't get a chance. The man slowly pushed the knife in, tearing several muffled screams from my mouth. It was finally in to the hilt. Suddenly he twisted it, forcing another scream from his mouth.

I thought it was over. I was wrong. They didn't let me down from the chains, but I heard them shuffle out. It couldn't have been two minutes later when they came back in and felt an object placed on my lower abdomen. Then it was turned on. emA drill.

The first time he drilled I screamed. I hadn't meant to break so easily, but it hurt like hell. They kept going. One hole, then two, four, eight, soon I had counted 16. The man drilled everywhere. Mostly my abdomen and chest, aiming for rib. Those hurt the most. A few in the forearms, one in the hand, the feet, and about two in my shins. Then he placed it against my collarbone.

As he turned the drill on, I could immediately feel it hit bone. I screamed, louder than normal. He kept drilling. When the bone snapped, I almost calmed down. Then it hit my back muscle. And the screams got louder still. When the blackness threatened my vision this time, I didn't hesitate to let it take me.


	3. Chapter 3

Wyatt's POV:

As I slowly regained consciousness, I couldn't understand what was going on, the blindfold obviously playing a large role in that. I tried to move, but just about every inch of my body was injured. If something came close to healing, they'd hurt me right over again. I had been shot 7 times if I counted correctly, in places not meant to kill, but hurt for sure. And the blood loss wasn't exactly helping my awareness. My left knee had been a victim when I tried to run. My left foot when I wouldn't stop kicking the guards. Then my right shoulder because I had found a way to break the first set of handcuffs I had initially been in. That one was on the first day. They never let it heal. My lower left abdomen also had one, but they usually just dig their fingers in it or take a blowtorch to it and it causes me pain, which pleases them just as much as it disturbs me. I also had a sharp pain in my hip that I vaguely remember being from a bullet, but it's hazy. Then of course, they gave me one shot in my thigh for good measure, and a second shot on the right side of my abdomen, who knows why. They're sadistic.

They also seem to find pleasure in knives. I've learned from extremely painful experience that they enjoy cutting things. Namely me. I'm bleeding from knife cuts everywhere, from a couple on my arms and legs to at least two dozen on my chest.

And the burning. I never know when that happens until the exact second the flame touches my skin. Either it's from cigarettes or a blowtorch, but it doesn't matter cause they both hurt like hell.

I've also come to the conclusion that all my bones are broken. Every single one hurts. I know that's probably impossible, but I'm convinced.

I'm brought back to the present when I hear gunshots upstairs. Then I hear someone enter my room and I hear a woman yelling my name. I feel small hands on me and I can't figure out where they came from. A woman has never come in before. Then the meaning of the gunshots register and before I can think another coherent thought, everything goes white.

It takes literally forever for my head to clear and register at least blurry figures. I look up, hopeful, and see a woman with dark brown hair and matching eyes. I mumble Lucy's name and tells me that I'm going be okay. By the time that I figure out that the woman is Lucy, my main captor runs in and grabs me from behind, putting a knife to my throat.

Lucy screams and Agent Christopher and Flynn both run in, pointing their guns at me and my captor. As Flynn gives me a quick glance, I almost laugh at the look on his face. He looks horrified. Then that expression is gone and he starts cursing in what sounds and awful lot like German. His expression turns angry and he starts yelling suddenly muffled words. I can't concentrate, and I think my legs give out, because the man soon has a lot of trouble holding me up.

Something happens though, and I can't quite figure out what, until I feel a new pain in my head along with the broken jaw, nose, and eye socket that makes me cry out, having no more energy left to scream. My left eye feels like it's tearing apart and I realize where the knife went. I guess I got lucky he decided not to cut my eye out.

He only got so far as to cut a deep line down my eyebrow and eye, reaching the middle of my cheek. I feel the tears leaving my eyes and making their way down my cheeks, but I can't stop them, even if I wanted to. I can also feel the blood pouring out of the cut on my face, staining the entire left side of my face.

Then I decided to fight back, even if it cost me my life. I had nothing left to lose. I managed to step on the man's foot and twist, grabbing the arm from around my neck and twisting that as well, and that's when I collapsed, giving Flynn and Agent Christopher free range to shoot. I think he was dead before he hit the ground.

Before I let the darkness take over, however, I could hear Flynn's voice telling me to hold on, Lucy's comforting words and touches, and Rufus yelling in the background, asking what the hell happened. Then I'm in oblivion, free of the pain.

Lucy's POV:

It all happened so fast. They got a location. Apparently Wyatt's dead wife was in fact Rittenhouse and when she saw Wyatt, felt guilt and gave them an address. What a hero. They kicked her out of the bunker almost right away. Didn't want to risk anything, with the Mothership going back to San Diego 1980 and everything. Turns out the picture they found was correct. She was Rittenhouse.

I convinced Agent Christopher to let me come, that Wyatt would need me. She barely agreed. I thought I was prepared, that I could handle it. It was like any other mission. At least that's what I told myself.

But when I found Wyatt, I nearly threw up. He was lying on the floor against the back wall of his cell. His hands were chained behind his back and his ankles and neck were bound with the same chain. There was duct tape wrapped around his mouth and a blindfold covering his eyes. He only had boxers on, and they were covered in blood and piss. His entire body was bruised and bloody and it made me sick. I slowly approached him and took the blindfold off as gently as possible and winced at his black and blue face. Suddenly he cried out and withdrew into himself even more, trying to shield his eyes between his knees. I began to wonder just how long that blindfold had been on.

Before I could help him anymore, a man came from behind me and threw me to the side. I screamed as he pulled Wyatt up and put a knife to his throat. I noticed Wyatt's far away look and almost cried. He didn't know what was happening.

I could hear Flynn and Agent Christopher yelling at him, presumably to put the knife down, but my focus was all on Wyatt. I tried to met his eyes, but he was too delirious. I could tell the minute Rufus and Jiya got there because Jiya immediately began sobbing and Rufus yelled at the guy, calling him a son of a bitch, and plenty of other words I will probably never repeat in my lifetime, no matter how much I want to yell them right now.

Suddenly Wyatt's body went limp, and the only thing keeping him upright was his captor. The man seemed to get angry at Wyatt's lack of effort, and, flashing us a sadistic smile, he began cutting down Wyatt's eye. When Wyatt cried out that was my last straw. I started yelling along with Rufus, probably calling him worse.

I saw the look in Wyatt's glassy eyes before it happened. I tried to call out before he did anything stupid, but then it was done. Wyatt twisted around and got out of the way just as Flynn shot the man in the head. They both continued to shoot him anyway. Good.

I ran to Wyatt's side as soon as the man fell to the ground, and saw that his eyes were barely open and he couldn't really see me. Then they closed and he stopped breathing.

Flynn ran over and immediately began chest compressions when I said he wasn't breathing. He yelled at him not to give up, that he had to fight just a little longer. Jiya called an ambulance. He needed a hospital.

The ambulance got there 7 minutes later. Yes, I counted every second. One of the paramedics took over CPR for Flynn, and the other intubated him. They loaded him onto the ambulance and let me ride with them to the hospital. By the time we got there, his heart had stopped. Twice.

They wheeled him inside and soon after he was whisked away by doctors and nurses. A nurse led me to a bathroom and helped me wash his blood off my hands. I gave her a small smile before sitting down in the waiting area. The rest of the team arrived not long later and Jiya sat down and hugged me. I broke down crying in her arms. I couldn't stop staring at my arms. They were stained slightly red. I couldn't get it all off and it was killing me.

We were waiting for hours. The night passed by and I was just massaging my stiff neck when a doctor came by and asked for the family of Wyatt Logan. I jumped up and asked how he was.

The doctor shook his head and said "Not good."

"But is he going to be okay?"

"His injuries were severe. He's a fighter, I'll give him that. Any normal person wouldn't have made it in the ambulance. But, given that, you'll all need to be extremely supportive. He's going to need help getting back to normal."

"What are his injuries, exactly, doctor?" asked Agent Christopher.

"Well, starting with his head, I can tell you that he was hit over the head repeatedly by a blunt object. He was clearly beaten, but most likely with a fist, and we found that his jaw was broken in two places, his nose was badly fractured, and his left eye socket was cracked in three places. The knife wound on his eye caused a lot of blood loss, but we got it under control. It most likely will scar though. We reset his jaw, nose, and we removed any bone shards that were at risk of hitting the nerves in his eye in surgery, so that's taken care of. I also had an optometrist, our eye doctor, to take a look. He said that his eyes looked like they hadn't seen light in an extremely long time. Likely he was blindfolded the entire time. He will recover, but everything may be blurry for a while." He let that sink in.

"Moving down, there was a bullet wound in his right shoulder, but we removed it and he should recover fine. There was another hole in his left shoulder, but we couldn't figure what had caused it. However, it did go straight through his collarbone, and tearing into the muscle in his back, which leads us to suspect it was a drill. There were several other holes like it in his abdomen, chest, forearm, and legs." Another pause. Flynn looked like he was about to kill someone.

"The reason he continued to code was because of the strain on his heart. He had bruised three ribs and broken 10 ribs. One of them managed to puncture a lung, putting strain on the heart. We repaired his lung and wrapped his ribs, but his oxygen levels are still incredibly low, so he is still intubated. He had hypothermia from being exposed to the cold so long, and multiple drownings, presumably waterboarding, show pneumonia. We are treating the pneumonia with antibiotics and he has a heating pad on. There is also a cast on his right arm where he broke both the ulna and radius. There were two bullet wounds in his abdomen, one of which was infected. We got him on antibiotics, but we have to keep a close eye on him to make sure he doesn't develop sepsis. His left knee had been shattered, he will be on crutches for the next couple months or so. His left ankle was also broken, and there was a bullet wound in his right foot, left knee, and right thigh. We cleaned them up and set all of his fractures, as well as got him in casts, but it will be a long recovery," the doctor finished, leaving us all shocked.

"Can- can we see him?" I managed to get out without sobbing. He nodded.

"Only two at a time, though. Follow me," he said. Me and Flynn followed.

When I walked through that door, the sight that met me was one I never, ever, wanted to see again. There were tubes and needles and wires sticking out of Wyatt everywhere and it just didn't look right. He didn't look right. It had been 14 months since I had seen him, but it was still Wyatt. He should be up and moving, not lying half dead in a hospital bed.

I slowly approached him, afraid I might hurt him. Even under the covers I could see the thick bandages wrapped around his body. He had a cast on his left leg and right arm, and there was a sling on his left arm to protect his collarbone. Flynn was whispering encouraging words to Wyatt and saying that we needed him. Then he left, giving me my privacy. I finally let myself cry. I grasped his hand and sobbed as the ventilator breathed for him. I begged him to stay alive, to come back to me, because I love him.

"Please, Wyatt, I can't do this without you. I need you. Please come back to me. I love you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Flynn's POV**

After Lucy had exited the room sobbing, I made my way back into the room. I almost couldn't do it.

Although I would never admit it out loud, I actually did see Wyatt as more than an acquaintance. After executing one mission after another together, I saw him as more of a friend. I realized that I had actually let myself start to care about Wyatt Loagn.

So when I walked into that hospital room, and saw a tube shoved down his throat that was literally breathing for him and bandages wrapped around his abdomen which were probably keeping him from falling apart, I nearly fell to my knees.

I slowly made my way to the chair next to the bed and sat down, placing a hand gently on Wyatt's uninjured arm.

"Wyatt, man, you gotta wake up soon. Lucy is going to be pissed if you don't. She really needs you, buddy. We all do. Keep fighting, alright? You're strong, you can get through this, so I need you to keep fighting," I say before removing my hand and standing as I start to tear up.

"Alright. I've got to go make sure that Lucy doesn't try something incredibly stupid. Wyatt, man, you need to wake up," I plead with him one more time, but all that happens is the smallest increase in his heart rate.

TIMELESSTIMELESSTIMELESSTIMELESSTIMELESSTIMELESS

**Lucy's POV**

It had been two weeks. Two whole weeks of waiting, and worrying. The doctors didn't even think he'd live this long. They keep telling us not to get our hopes up, to expect the worst.

But I can't. I need to believe that Wyatt will wake up. Because I don't know what I would do if he didn't.

Me and Flynn were his main visitors. Rufus and Jiya visited, of course, but I think they wanted to give me my space. Flynn's excuse was that he wanted to make sure I was okay, but I knew that he also wanted to see Wyatt wake up, even if he didn't admit it.

I looked up from Wyatt's hand to his still badly bruised face. The tears continued to fall down my cheeks.

The doctors were even more skeptical than before. They said that the pneumonia was getting worse, and antibiotics weren't helping. Apparently, everything was just getting worse.

His lungs were starting to fail, putting strain on his heart. The bullet wound in his thigh got infected last week, which was when the doctors finally said that the antibiotics weren't working on him anymore.

They said he was getting worse every day. They even suggested taking him off life support. I really went off on them at that. Flynn had to drag me away, kicking and screaming.

I continued to trace my fingers around his hand, following the scars that wrapped around it. I never noticed how many he had.

I didn't even notice the wheezing coming from Wyatt until I heard the monitors beeping. I looked up and saw him struggling to breathe.

Doctors came rushing in and started yelling out orders, while a nurse pulled me back. As a doctor approached me and I backed into the wall. Everything seemed like it was in slow motion. His heart wasn't beating. He wasn't breathing.

I could see the doctor's mouth moving, but it was like everything was muted. Then I could hear again and the doctor had to repeat himself.

"Miss Preston, please. You really need to consider removing life support. You are his next of kin, so it's up to you," the doctor said. They shocked Wyatt's heart.

"Lucy. Keeping him alive means these ventilators breathing for him, possibly the rest of his life. He might never wake up," the doctor continued. Flynn ran into the room.

"If you choose to try and save him, he will only suffer more. We've maxed him out on morphine, but he can still feel most of it. Chances are, he is in excruciating pain. You need to let him go," the doctor pleaded with me.

"No! Okay, I'm not giving up on him. I won't. He is a fighter. He can get through this. I know he can. So I'm not giving up. Just save him," I tell him.

The doctor nods. "Okay. But you have to know, there is an extremely good chance that he never wakes up."

"I understand that. But I need him to wake up, doc. So just, give him a chance. Do everything you can," I tell him. He nods and walks back to Wyatt, who is still coding.

The doctor gets up and starts compressions. He administers epi and shocks his heart, but Wyatt doesn't respond. He glances at me and gives me a skeptical look.

I start crying and Wyatt's heart still isn't beating. Even Flynn is crying a little bit. Just then, Rufus and Jiya run in, and Jiya buries her face in Rufus's chest. Agent Christopher and Connor are right behind them, and they look shocked.

It's been 22 minutes. I've been watching the clock tick every second and every minute. It's been 22 minutes since Wyatt's heart stopped and it still hasn't started again. The doctor slows his compressions, and then stops altogether. He gets off and walks over to me.

I look around, and everybody is looking at the floor. The nurses put the paddles down, and put the medicine back in the drawers.

"I'm so sorry, Lucy. He fought hard and much longer than most would have. But the strain on his heart and lungs was just too great. We lost him, I'm so sorry," the doctor says as I start to fall to my knees.

I feel Flynn wrap his arms around me, and I notice that the screaming I'm hearing is coming from me. I untangle myself from Flynn's arms and make my way over to Wyatt. He's still lying there, tubes and wires everywhere, and he looks so… peaceful.

Like he's finally free of all the pain and anger he's had to deal with his entire life. I want to blame him, so badly, for giving up, for not fighting harder, but I can't bring myself to. Because I know it's not his fault. He fought as hard as he possibly could.

Then, all of a sudden, the doctor was rushing back in, checking Wyatt's pulse, his blood pressure. Then, "He's still alive."

"What?" I ask, confused.

"His heart stopped, and there was no pulse, but the monitors are reading a heart rate again. And I can feel a pulse," the doctor says incredulously.

"Oh my god. Wyatt, oh god. Please wake up. Come on, keep fighting, you can do it," I say as another nurse pulls me back.

They shock his heart again to get it back into a normal rhythm. Luckily, it works, and Wyatt's eyes snap open. He immediately curls into himself, trying to get away from all the people in the room.

"Hey, give him some space," I tell them, and they file out of the room as quickly as possible.

I make my way over to him and sit next to his bed, taking his hand gently.

He flinches at my touch, but doesn't try to get away. He looks up at me, at least, in my general direction, but his eyes are unfocused.

He moves his hand to try and pull the tube out, but I tell him that he needs to keep it in a while longer.

It doesn't take long for him to pass out once again.

TIMELESSTIMELESSTIMELESSTIMELESSTIMELESSTIMELESS

**Wyatt's POV**

As my eyes fly open, the first thing I see is blinding bright lights, and I shut them as tight as I can. I'm confused, because they haven't taken the blindfold off since I got here.

I hear voices, and then several footsteps heading away from me. I don't understand, since they don't usually leave the room without hurting me in some way.

But I feel somebody else in the room, and I feel a hand grab mine. I flinch slightly, until I look up and squint at a vaguely familiar face. For a minute, the brown hair and brown eyes make me think of Lucy, and I get a warm feeling in my chest, but it vanishes as I realize that it is probably another one of their sick games.

I try and pull out the tube that is down my throat, but the woman tells me that it is helping me breathe, so I leave it in.

It is only a minute or two before my breathing evens out and I can feel the shroud of sleep blanketing me. I let myself rest, enjoying the most painless sleep I had in what felt like years.


	5. Chapter 5

**Lucy's POV:**

Wyatt was thrashing in his sleep. I had been trying to get him to calm down for what felt like an eternity now, and he wouldn't.

I'm pretty sure he doesn't even recognize me, which is what kills me the most. I know it's not his fault, because he's probably too caught up in his mind to believe I'm real.

He finally stops, and I back up, not wanting to catch another unexpected elbow to the face again like last week.

So far, the doctor had been right. Ever since Wyatt's heart had stopped beating a month ago, he still hadn't woken up.

All the doctors and nurses continue to tell us how much of a miracle it is that he's still alive. His injuries aren't getting any better still, the antibiotics aren't helping, but somehow his heart keeps beating.

They're saying the only explanation is that he's fighting with everything he has to stay alive, like he's physically pumping his heart to keep it beating.

The only times he's been close to waking up are these nightmares. It's usually reduced to thrashing and struggling, but sometimes he yells things that make my blood run cold.

This time is different. When he stops thrashing, I see his eyes. The striking blue eyes that I've been waiting to see for the past year and a half, ever since he went missing back in 1888.

"Wyatt? Oh my god, Wyatt!" I say, rushing to him.

His hands go back to the tube in his throat, and I tell him to keep it in, but he doesn't listen like last time. He keeps pulling, with little success.

When I realize that me telling him to keep it in isn't helping, I go and find the doctor and he surprisingly takes it out, saying that his oxygen level is okay and that maybe he'll recover better by breathing on his own.

The doctor leaves and I sit next to his bed again, and I can tell he is scared. His eyes are moving around the room, assessing for dangers, and his heart rate has spiked. But he looks confused.

"Wyatt?" I say. He flinches.

I remember the doctor saying that he would probably not be able to talk for a while after the tube was taken out, especially since there was a lot of damage done to his throat, so I keep talking, hoping to calm him down if he recognizes my voice.

"It's okay, Wyatt. You're in the hospital. You're going to be okay," I say to him, and his heart rate goes down a bit.

Then there are several loud pops from outside the room, and I jump, seeing a bunch of masked men storming the hospital.

I realize what is happening and I curse, going to get Wyatt out, but then it hits me that he can't walk, so I go to hide.

When they reach the room, they start wheeling Wyatt's bed away, and I discreetly follow, doing my best to stay hidden.

I figure if I can follow them back to their headquarters, then I can get Wyatt back and maybe even take out their entire organization.

But right when they load Wyatt into the van, one of the guys sees me and when I go to run, they all chase me, catching up to me quickly and throwing me into the back of the van with Wyatt.

I feel a prick in my neck and I pass out, my last thought being that Wyatt might be killed because now they have what they want. Me.

**Wyatt's POV:**

When I finally woke up again, the blackness of the blindfold was back. I tensed, feeling the pain in my shoulders full force as the chains around my hands, feet, and neck were back.

I began to panic again, knowing everything had been a trap. I scrambled backwards against the wall as a voice broke through the quietness of the room.

"Wyatt?" I hear a female voice say. It throws me off when I realize it sounds so much like Lucy.

"Oh god, Wyatt?" The voice says again, but I don't respond, not that I could if I wanted to because of the duct tape that has returned to my mouth.

Then I hear them. Those dreaded footsteps. I feel my entire body tense up as always and I start panicking when I realize I'm all the way backed up against the wall and there's nowhere left to go.

Two of the men pull me up roughly and I groan in pain from my shoulders.

"No! Wyatt! Leave him alone!" That voice says again.

"Shush, Lucy. This needs to happen," another female voice says.

She said Lucy. Lucy was in this room. I try to make myself struggle, to protect Lucy, but I know I don't have anything left, so I go willingly.

"Mom, please! Don't do this! He doesn't know anything!" Lucy yells, to her mother apparently.

"Exactly, he doesn't. We learned that over these past few months. But you do. So, we're going to continue to do exactly what we've been doing. Torture him. He's already broken, there's not much left for him to give. But I bet you'll be begging to tell us everything by the time we're done with him," Carol says.

I feel my arms being pulled back again and I tense, knowing what is going to happen. Again.

I scream the entire time. I try not to, for Lucy's sake. But I can't help myself.

The men soon leave, and the only sound now is the sound of Lucy's sobs. I can feel my own tears running down my face from the pain.

I discover that my feet no longer hurt to stand on so I stumble over in the direction of my cot and fall on it, ignoring Lucy as she tries calling out to me.

I fall asleep quickly, knowing that I won't have much time before they return.

**Lucy's POV:**

When I finally come to, I try to move but see that my hands are tied to the arms of the chair I'm sitting in.

I look over and see Wyatt. Just like how I found him when we rescued him the first time. Hands bound behind his back, a chain connecting to his neck and ankles. A blindfold covering his eyes and duct tape around his mouth. And stripped to his boxers.

I call out to him without thinking. He flinches and scrambles backwards. I mentally smack myself.

Then the footsteps start heading towards us and he tries to back away even more and it breaks my heart.

The men roughly pull him up and I can tell he's in a ton of pain, because he groans, barely holding back a scream.

He looks ready to fight for a second, but then he slumps over, giving in.

My mother walks in and explains. Suddenly everything makes sense and the torture begins.

Wyatt's screams are horrific. I close my eyes at one point because I can't take it anymore. When they finally let him down, they throw him on the floor and leave.

Wyatt stumbles towards the cot, falling on it roughly, not being able to catch himself. I call out to him several times, but I have a feeling he fell asleep, because he doesn't even acknowledge me.

I finally let myself drift off, his screams haunting my dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

**Wyatt's POV:**

When I finally wake up, I can hear the faint voice of somebody talking to me. It sounds almost comfortingly like Lucy, but it can't be.

She isn't here with me. She never was.

I flinch as the men enter the room, but I don't fight as they string me up from the ceiling.

I know what's coming, and I can barely muster up enough energy to scream at this point.

Then that voice again. She's screaming now, begging them to let me go. God, it sounds so much like Lucy.

I must be hallucinating. They let me down easily this time, probably not getting the reaction they hoped. I'm too tired right now.

I let myself pass out again the second I am thrown back onto the cot.

**Lucy's POV:**

I can't stop the tears streaming down my face as they torture him. These people are monsters.

Maybe we should have listened to Flynn when he first started this crusade of his. If we had stopped chasing him and spent more time helping him, maybe Rittenhouse would have been destroyed.

Maybe if I had let him kill David Rittenhouse's son back in 1780, none of this would be happening.

I would be back at the bunker right now, with Wyatt, and maybe we would be happy. Cause that's all I wanted.

As the men leave the room, I try calling out to him, but he looks unconscious, or asleep, so I give it up.

He's so defeated it kills me. He doesn't even fight anymore. He just lets them do whatever they want with him.

The only sign that lets me know he's still even alive is when he screams. It makes me sick just thinking about it.

I decide there's nothing left to fight for. I tell myself that when they come back in, I'll give them whatever they want.

If it saves Wyatt, then so be it. But then they walk back in, and before I can speak up, they're gone again and I notice they removed Wyatt's duct tape.

We sit there in silence, me being to afraid to speak up. Then, after an hour or two, his voice is the one I hear.

His voice is so hoarse and raspy that a few tears run down my cheeks at the thought of how painful it must be.

"Lucy? Is that really you?" He calls out.

He sounds like he's finally accepting the fact that I could be here with him. "Yes, Wyatt. It's me."

"I need you to… to promise me something," he whispers.

"What's that?"

"Don't give in. No matter what happens, don't ever give them what they want. You can't let them win."

I don't respond right away, and I know I should listen, but I can't be the reason for his pain.

"Wyatt, if there is something that I can do to stop this. To take away some of that pain for you, I'm going to do it-"

"No, Lucy, promise me. Don't give in to them. For me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

I pause. He keeps talking.

"It doesn't matter what they would do. Make you one of them, kill you. I couldn't bear it. Please, Lucy, promise me."

"I promise."


End file.
